


All This for a Piece of Paper

by clgfanfic



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and the Kid get drawn into a land dispute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This for a Piece of Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ghost Riders #7, and then in the multi-media zine Ouch! #4 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

Two horses lowered their heads, stretching gallops into dead runs.  Hannibal Heyes and Jed "Kid" Curry leaned forward, urging all the speed they could from their rapidly tiring mounts.

Curry turned, looking at the plume of dust marking their pursuers.  "They're gainin'!"

Heyes glanced back, a frown creasing his dusty face.  "This isn't workin'!"  He kicked the mare's flanks again and she picked up speed, tail twitching.  "We could try splitting up!"

"Where would we meet?"

"Lone Pine!" Heyes yelled, gathering in the reins as the mare stumbled.  "I'll go through Green Meadow an' meet ya in Council Oak."

"Gotcha!" Curry yelled over his shoulder, reining his gelding to the left and watching his partner veer off to the right.  A strange foreboding swept over him, but he shook it off and applied his heels to the gelding's flanks, urging his tired mount on a little farther.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Hannibal Heyes rode casually down the main street of Green Meadow, Colorado.  Several people crossed the dirt road in front of him, pursuing their daily activities.  Heyes smiled to himself when none of them bothered to give him a second look.  Drawing the exhausted mare up in front of the first decent hotel he saw, he dismounted stiffly and tied the bay to the long, well-worn hitching rack that stood in front of the two-story building.  Removing his saddlebags, Heyes grinned up at the elaborately decorated sign that hung above the entrance of the hotel, proudly proclaiming: "The Sleepy Inn, We Guarantee a Good Sleep."

_Sure hope so_ , he thought as he climbed the stairs, ignoring the protests from his legs and back.  _I could sure use one!_

The interior of the hotel was clean and quiet.  It was also deserted except for a tall, thin old man standing behind the counter, carefully placing keys into the pigeonholes in the wall.  Heyes crossed to the counter, laid his saddlebags down and signed the register with a flourish.

The old man continued with his task, holding the keys within an inch of his nose to read the number, then scanning the holes until he found the one he wanted.  Heyes watched him for a few minutes, then noticed the bell sitting next to the register.  He rang it.

The old man's shoulders pinched like a pair of bird's wings and he turned, giving Heyes a nearly toothless grin.  "Mornin', son.  Can I he'p ya?"

"I'd like a room."

"What's that ya say?"

"I said," Heyes responded, his volume climbing, "I'd like a room."

The old man scratched his stubbly chin, a perplexed look wrinkling across his weathered face.  Finally, he took a pocket watch from his vest, and after checking it, said, "No… no, it ain't noon.  It's only 'bout eight o'clock in the A-M."

Heyes' head and shoulders dropped in frustration.  "A _room_!  You know, upstairs, with a bed!"

"Well, a'course I gots a head, boy, damn silly question!"

Heyes leaned heavily against the counter, shaking his head.  He looked up at the old man, and mouthing the words carefully, tried again.  " _A room!_ "

"A room?  Well, why didn'tcha say so?  Just a minute here, young feller."

He turned, and after fingering several keys, finally removed one from its hole.  He faced Heyes again, clutching the key close to his chest with long bony fingers.  "That'll be six bits a night, 'n' the first night's up front.  O' course, if ya wants a bath…"  He paused, peering at Heyes and wrinkling his nose to make his opinion obvious.  "…it'll cost ya two bucks – up front."

Heyes dug into the front right pocket of his pants and removed the two dollars.  Handing it to the man he said, "I'll take the bath."

"Laugh?  Now, why would I laugh?"  The old man peered at Heyes suspiciously.  "You're a real strange one, ain't ya, boy?"

"A bath!" Heyes yelled, his patience at an end.  "I said I need a bath!"

The last words came out as a woman and her husband entered the hotel.  She paused, looking pointedly at Heyes, then smiled.

"Boy, I'll say ya do, and I'm on the upwind side!" the old man added with a laugh, as Heyes was joined at the counter by the couple.

The ex-outlaw turned a deep shade of crimson as he wiped a hand over his face, mumbling, "I sure hope things are going better for the Kid."  He glanced at the woman.  She was still smiling.

"I'll have dat sent right on up, son."

"Thanks," Heyes said, accepting the key.  He glanced down at the number.  _Thirteen_.  "It figures," he muttered as he gathered his belongings and headed upstairs.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Kid Curry rode cautiously into Lone Pine, Colorado.  His eyes scanned the streets and the people he passed.  All in all it seemed like a nice, quiet little town.  He smiled.

_Maybe this'll work after all.  Heyes always does come up with a plan_.

The undertaker's business caught his attention, and he read the sign as he passed by:   _Lone Pine's only Undertaker. You Plug 'Em, I'll Plant 'Em.  Two Dollars, and a Ticket to Heaven!_

A worried look settled on the Kid's face as he continued down the dusty street.  Not a man given to superstitions, Curry hadn't been able to shake the sense of foreboding that had settled across his shoulders ever since he'd split up with Heyes.  Now this…

He shook his head and clucked the gelding into a shuffling trot that carried him down the dusty street until he spotted the Lone Pine Inn.  Pulling up in front, he dismounted and tossed the gelding's reins around the hitching rack.  Grabbing his saddlebags and his rifle from its scabbard, he cast a last look at the undertaker's sign, then went inside.

A young girl in her late teens stood behind the counter. Looking up at Curry, she smiled shyly, and tugged at a blond braid.  "Would you like a room?" she asked, her gaze slowly wandering over him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, glad the trail dust hid the redness that painted his cheeks in response to her scrutiny.

"Will you be stayin' long?" she asked over her shoulder as she took down a key.

"Huh, just a day or two, ma'am."

"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed.  "The room's seventy-five cents a day.   A bath'll cost you fifty cents more."

Curry looked down at the accumulated layers and hues of trail dust, then gave the young girl a lopsided grin.  "Think I'd better take that bath, ma'am."

"All right, I'll have my brother bring the water up just as soon as it gets hot.  My name's Annie, by the way.  Would you sign the register, please?"

Curry fingered the pencil out of the crack in the book and quickly scrawled his name.  Annie turned the large book around and glanced at it as she handed him the key.  "I hope your stay's a pleasant one, Mr. Jones."

Sliding the money to her, he grabbed the saddlebags off the counter and swung the rifle to his shoulder.  Heading down the hall, thoughts of a warm bath, a soft bed and a pretty young girl occupied his thoughts.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The rider pulled his lathered mount up in front of a stately ranch house.  The yard, though neat, lacked that certain something that indicated a woman's touch.  Sliding from the saddle, he approached the front door hesitantly, hating the thought of delivering bad news, but it couldn't wait.  He raised a gloved hand and knocked loudly on the carved wood.  It was answered almost immediately, and the rider found himself standing before an elderly black man.  "May I help you, sir?"

"I need to talk to Mr. Frother," the rider said as he removed his hat and began to beat some of the trail dust off with it.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Frother is very busy right now.  Maybe you should try back this evenin'."

The man scowled.  "You tell him it's about Hahn.  He'll see me _right now_."

The butler nodded, well acquainted with the name, and allowed the man to enter.  "Wait here, sir, and I'll go tell Mr. Frother you've come."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The grey-haired man swung a pudgy fist onto the desktop, setting up a loud ringing from the clock that occupied one corner.  Even seated, his rotund build nearly dwarfed the large teak desk, and obviously intimidated the man seated across from him.

"I _won't_ have it, Jacob!" the large man stormed.  "One way or another, I want that land.  I _need_ that land!  I've been paying you for over two months now to get it, and you're not one step closer today than you were when I hired you!"

The smaller man cringed back into his chair and whined,   "But, Mr. Frother, as I've tried to explain before, there's absolutely nothing that I can do until you get hold of that deed."

The sound of a knock spared Jacob Able the further humiliation of begging for an extension.

"Not now!" Frother bellowed.

The butler's voice drifted in past the heavy wood of the door.  "Excuse me, sir, but there's a man downstairs who says he has something to tell you about Mr. Hahn."

Frother glared at the seated man, and sighed.  "All right, send him up."

The sound of the butler's retreating footsteps marked the beginning of the second round, and Frother focused his full attention on Able again.  "As for you, you damn well better find a way to get that deed, or so help me, you'll be practicing law in hell!"  A second knock stilled any more threats and Frother yelled impatiently, "In!"

The butler opened the door wide enough to admit the rider, then quickly shut it behind him once he passed.

"Bad news, Mr. Frother," the man said.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, man," was the sarcastic reply.  "What is it?"

"It's Hahn, sir.  Looks like he's gone and hired himself a gunman."

"Well, I'll be damned.  I never thought the son of a bitch had it in him."  Frother pushed himself up out of the chair.  The rider took an involuntary step backward.  "So, he's hired a gunman.  Well, I want that deed and, by God, I'll have it, one way or another!  I don't care how many hired guns he finds!  Jacob, I don't care how you do it, but you get that deed away from whoever the hell Hahn's found.  And remember, I hate attending funerals, but if I can't get that deed, you, and Hahn, are going to be expendable.  Understand?"

Jacob Able nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At eight o'clock that night the Lone Pine saloon was nearly empty.  Curry sat, nursing a whisky and playing poker with three other men in one corner of the room.  Two of the players looked like local ranch hands in town to blow their wages, and the third was, obviously, the man who intended to take that money.  Dressed in a fine black suit, ruffled white shirt and red satin waistcoat, he had the predatory look that Curry remembered Heyes wearing when he played poker for high stakes.

The gambler dealt a hand, then settled back in his chair to appraise the three.  "You?" he asked the blond man.

"I'll open, for ten," Curry said as he placed the bills in the center of the table.  The other two cowboys followed suit.

"Cards?"

"Two," Curry said, laying down his discards and picking up those the man dealt him.

"One for me," said one of the cowboys.

"Two," was the third's response.

The dealer flipped the cards to the men and laid the deck down.  "I'll just stand on these."

Curry glanced down at the new additions and smiled.  Four queens smiled coyly back at him, a single king their companion.  _Lucky man_.

Glancing around the table, he judged the gambler to be his real competition.  "It'll cost you ten more."

Looking down at his cards in disgust, the first cowboy snorted.  "Ain't worth the effort."

The second dropped his ten and reached for three more.   "Let's up the pot a bit, gentlemen."  Curry added his three, and looked to the gambler.

"Thirteen.  An unlucky number, gentlemen, let's add another five."

"That's gettin' too rich for my pockets," the cowboy said, laying his cards aside.

"Looks like it's up to you," the gambler said to Curry, his eyes watching the blond man's face with interest.

"Let's say we make this really interesting and make it ten instead."

"I don't mind taking your money, son, not at all, make it twenty."

Curry looked at the small pile of money left in front of him and wondered what Heyes would do.  "All right," he said, fingering the bills.  "But, let's make it an even fifty."

The cowboys both whistled under their breaths.

"Call," the gambler said, laying his bills on top of those the Kid had deposited in the pot.

Curry held his cards a moment, appreciating the hand.  Meanwhile, the gambler laid his hand down, fanning them out to reveal aces and eights, the move drawing a round of appreciative grunts from the cowboys.  "That should just about do it."

The gambler leaned forward to rake in the pot, but Curry laid the four queens down, saying with a smile, "I don't think so."

The two men stared at the cards for a moment, then broke into wails of laughter.  "You see the look on ol' Tobin's face?" one hollered.  "He thought he'd hit this fellah's mother load!"

"Those four little ladies are right pretty," the other man agreed.

The gambler looked pointedly at the Kid.  "You're awfully lucky, mister."

"You seemed awfully sure you were going to win."

"I _am_ a professional."  The tone was deadly.  "You, on the other hand, appear to be—"

"Now look, friend," Curry interrupted, unhappy at the sudden turn of events.  "I'm not looking for any trouble.  I was just playing a little friendly game of poker.  You're takin' this way too seriously."

"You may not be looking for trouble, but you've bought yourself plenty."

"Don't do anything we might both regret," Curry said as the man pushed his chair back and stood.  A handsome colt revolver sat in a black leather holster.  "Look, I really don't want any trouble.  Why don't we just take back what's ours and everyone can go home peacefully."

"Stand up."

Curry moved reluctantly to his feet.  The two cowboys scrambled away from the table and the few remaining patrons turned to watch.  The gambler's hand dropped for the gun.

"Now," Curry said, gun already in hand and pointed at the man's chest, "why don't you leave before any more trouble happens."

The gambler gave the young man a half-frightened, half-furious look then fled the saloon.  Business resumed an air of normalcy as the Kid scooped up the money.  Pocketing the cash, he left the saloon, heading back to his hotel room, thankful that no one had commented on the gunplay.  He decided that discretion was called for and that he'd leave in the morning.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry had just removed his boots and settled back onto the soft mattress when a quiet knock startled him.  Rolling from the bed, he grabbed the revolver from his holster hanging on the bed-post, and moved to stand beside the wall next to the door.

"Who is it?" he called.

"A friend.  I'd like to talk to you."

Curry contemplated the offer, shrugged to himself, then opened the door.  A middle-aged man with dark hair, graying at the temples, stood outside.  He moved his coat aside to show that he wasn't armed.  "May I come in?  I'd rather no one knows I'm here," he explained with an accent.

_Kurt_ , Curry thought.  _That's who he sounds like!_

The ex-outlaw motioned him in, keeping the gun pointed away from the man, but ready for use.  With a handsome smile the man crossed to a chair near the window and took a seat.

"What can I do for you?" Curry asked.

"I saw what happened earlier in the saloon," he began, watching the immediate mistrust fill Curry's eyes.  "I have a job that I need done and I think you're just the man to help me with it."

"I'm not a gunman for hire, Mister…?"

"Hahn, Rothgar Hahn," he said.  "And I don't want you to kill anyone.  I'd like to hire you to deliver a letter to Council Oak, to a lawyer there, then bring it back to me here."

"That sounds awfully simple, Mr. Hahn," Curry said, moving to sit down on the bed.  "Why do you need me?  Why not do it yourself?"

"I won't lie to you, there is danger involved."  Hahn leaned back and lit a pipe he removed from his coat pocket.  "There are men who would kill for what is in that letter.  But my land, and my life, are at stake.  When I saw you outdraw that man tonight I thought you were someone who would have no trouble getting the letter to Council Oak and back.  No one here knows you, I asked, so Frother won't know that I've hired you.  I'll pay you a thousand dollars for the work."

"Who'd be coming after me, if this Frother _did_ find out you hired me?"

"I don't know.  Gunmen, I suppose," Hahn said.

Curry nodded, impressed at the man's honesty.

"Frother owns a large ranch near Council Oak.  If that letter falls into his hands, I am ruined.  I will lose everything.  If you accept, would you be able to leave day after tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," Curry said, the thought of a thousand dollars overriding his usual caution.  "I think that would fit my plans just fine."

"Good, good," Hahn said, rising and shaking hands with the younger man.  "I'll bring the envelope by early.  You deliver it and my lawyer will give you half the money.  I'll pay you the second half once you deliver it back to me."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes sat at a poker table with several other players.  His black hat was pushed back on his head and a smile played across his handsome face.  A large pile of bills sat in front of him, marking the ever-present luck that followed him at the poker table.  The saloon was busy, and Heyes kept a watchful eye on the patrons as they came and went, checking for a badge or a familiar face.  "Well, gentlemen, it seems my luck is holding."  Lying down the hand he was holding, Heyes revealed the four queens and an ace.

The other players groaned while he pulled the ample pot in and stacked it with the other winnings.

Heyes didn't notice the man sitting at the far corner of the bar, watching him while he sipped on a whiskey.  Hard grey eyes followed every move the ex-outlaw made.  Finishing the whiskey, the man rose, and left the saloon, casting a final glance over his shoulder.

"I'll be damned," he whispered as he let the doors swing shut behind him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Jacob Able sat at his desk, nervously tapping his pencil on the book that sat in front of him.  A knock at the door caused him to jump, but he called out with a clear voice, "Come in."

The man who had been watching Heyes so intently stepped through the door and closed it behind him.  "I think I've got your man."

"Who is it?" Able asked, leaning forward.

"Hannibal Heyes."

"What?  He's wanted.  There's a ten thousand dollar reward on his head."

"Maybe so, but he's sitting over at the saloon right now, taking the locals for all they're worth," the man said, taking a seat and placing his feet on the rich desktop.

Able gave him a complaining look.  "Are you sure it's him?"

"Of course I'm sure," was the irritated reply.  "I spent a winter in Devil's Hole when Heyes and Curry came through.  You couldn't ask for anything better.  A known train and bank robber breaks into a rich lawyer's office and steals some important papers.  Hell, Heyes even has a reputation as a thinker, maybe he decided blackmailing was safer than robbin' trains and banks."

"Yes, I can see how we might be able to make that work," Able said as he leaned back, studying the wooden ceiling.

"And, when the job's through," the man said, a slow smile spreading across his face, "we can kill 'em and pick up ten thousand dollars for the trouble."

"Get him."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes sat down on the bed.  He was happy – not only had he made six hundred dollars at the table that night, but there had been absolutely no discussion concerning him and the Kid being in the area.  The best news, though, was hearing that the local sheriff was at home, laid up with a bad case of ague.  The deputy was a youngster, no more than twenty, and more interested in projecting an image of competence than in doing any real law work.

Lifting a foot, Heyes had began to tug his boot off when someone knocked on the door.  Standing, he moved to the wall alongside the door and removed the gun from his holster.

"Who is it?"

"Name's George Stratter, I'd like to talk to you."

Gun ready, Heyes opened the door and allowed the man to enter.  Stratter looked at the gun and raised his hand away from the sidearm that he wore, saying, "I'm not lookin' for any trouble, friend."

Heyes gave him a friendly smile, but kept the gun where it was.  "What can I do for you?" he asked, shutting the door and leaning back against it, watching.

"I'm here to offer you a job."

"A job?"  The aura the man projected set Heyes' nerves on edge.

"It's like this.  My boss needs someone to steal a piece of paper for him, and he's willing to pay for the work, pay well as a matter of fact."

"What makes you think _I'd_ be interested?" Heyes asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

George's eyes narrowed and his smile grew more predatory.  "Because I've heard that Hannibal Heyes is real good at that kind o' work, and I really don't think you'd like to spend time talking to the sheriff, now would you?"

"Maybe we had better talk."  _Just what I need.  My luck's goin' bad.  Sure hope the Kid's is holding_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes sat across from Able and watched as the lawyer studied him.  He knew he looked about as mad as he felt, but listened in silence.

Stratter leaned against the door, contemplating how he was going to spend his five thousand dollars once this was over.

"All you have to do is remove the deed and the copy from Lanson's safe, or pick it up from the delivery man before he even gets it to Lanson.  Whichever you think would work best."

"Who's the delivery man?"

"I've no idea."

"I don't like being blackmailed, Mr. Able," Heyes said angrily.  "And you don't go around pulling jobs without knowing all the facts.  It's dangerous and it's stupid."

"I'm without any alternatives, Mr. Heyes," Able said in what sounded like an honest apology.  "Do we have a deal?"

"Two thousand dollars and your silence for the deed," Heyes stated, repeating the arrangement they had settled on earlier.

"That's what I promised, and I do keep my promises, even if they are a mite unorthodox.  We do know that the delivery man will be leaving Lone Pine in the morning.  He should be in Council Oak day after tomorrow, sometime about mid-morning."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry stood at his hotel door and smiled down at the young blond boy who had handed him the telegram.  Big blue eyes watched with avid curiosity as the Kid dug a nickel out of his pocket.  "Gee, thanks, mister!" the boy exclaimed, and with a bound was off down the hall.

Curry watched him until he was out of sight, the boy reminding him of himself at that age.  He shut the door and opened the telegram, reading quietly, "Thaddeus, have job in Council Oak.  Stop.  Meet me there day after tomorrow.  Stop.  Joshua."

Folding the note, Curry slipped it in his pocket and finished packing his few belongings in the saddlebags.  That chore done, he hefted the rifle, resting it on his shoulder, and headed for the telegraph office.

The final clicks of an incoming message sounded as he entered.  A tall, older man sat at the desk, writing out the message.  Thin grey hair fell into his eyes and Curry waited until he was finished before he said, "I'd like to send a message to Green Meadow."

The operator grunted and reached under the counter, pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil.  Curry stood for a moment, contemplating the blank paper, then quickly wrote out a message.  When he finished, he read it back to himself and smiled at the results.

The old man waited silently until Curry pushed the paper to him, then took it and read aloud, "Joshua, have job in Council Oak same time as you.  I'll meet you there.  Might need your help.  Pays well.  Thaddeus."  Laying the paper on the counter the man totaled it.  "That'll be two dollars and twenty cents."

Curry frowned.  "Lemme have that," he said and the man reluctantly pushed it back to him.

Taking the pencil, Curry frowned and then began scratching out words.  When he finished he handed it back to the man, a self-satisfied look on his face.

The old man read again, "Joshua, job in Council Oak, same time.  Meet you.  Might need help.  Thaddeus."  Disappointment etched itself on his face as the man recalculated the charge.  "A buck thirty.  You want it back again?"

"No," the Kid said happily.  "I think the rest of it's necessary."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes had just finished packing his saddlebags when the knock came.  He shot the door a disgusted look, then crossed over and opened it.  The old clerk stood there, a piece of paper in hand.  "This here was just delivered fer ya," he announced.

"Thanks," Heyes said, taking the paper and opening it.

After reading it he smiled, refolded it and stuck it in his pant pocket before he noticed that the old man was still standing in the doorway.  With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and took out a dime, and handed it to the man.  "Thanks."

"Yep, banks _is_ a real problem," the old man said with a knowing smile.  "Ya should do what I do – bury your money."

"Thanks!" Heyes yelled, and watched the old man leave with a wry smile.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes rode through Council Oak, admiring the clean, booming little community.  A prosperous buzz reached his ears and he realized he had memorized the layout of the town without even thinking.  A large window caught his attention.  Donald Lanson, Attorney-at-Law, it read in bold, professional letters.  Studying the bank as he went by out of habit, Heyes rode on to the livery stable and dismounted.

Finding the man who doubled as blacksmith and livery man was no problem, but convincing him to leave the stable and forge for a couple of hours proved to be more difficult.  After a good deal of storytelling and money up front, Heyes was able to reach an agreement with the burly man.

"Okay, buddy," he said, confused but not stupid enough to argue with fifty dollars.  "It's all yours for two hours, but then I'm comin' back.  I can't stay away any longer and still make a decent day's pay."

"That's all the time I should need."

"I still don't know why you're bein' so secret 'bout treatin' that horse.  If what you're sayin's true, and it works, you could make a fortune sellin' the formula."

"That's why I don't anyone to see what I'm doing," Heyes said as though he were letting the man in on the secret.  "Once I know that it works…"  He dropped his voice even lower, the man leaning in closer so he could hear.  "…maybe I'd consider lettin' you in for a cut.  We could sell it out of your livery."

The man gave Heyes a broad smile and shook his hand enthusiastically.

Watching the blacksmith disappear around the building, Heyes shook his head, then headed inside.  Looking around the large barn, he spotted the net that was used to move hay from the delivery wagons to the loft.  Grabbing the net and a couple of coils of rope he went to work.

Forty-five minutes later he stopped to admire his handiwork.  The net lay on the floor of the barn, covered with dirt and loosely spread hay.  Ropes ran from the corners of the net to the pulley above, then to the trigger rigged on the underside of a spring carriage.  Deciding the trap was as inconspicuous as he could make it, Heyes climbed the ladder to the loft.

Wiggling down into the hay he hoped that the delivery man would be on time.  Pulling more of the hay over his head, Heyes settled back to wait.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Anyone here?" came a man's voice, erasing the floor plans for the Bank of Fort Worth from Heyes' mind.  He held his breath, waiting, when a sudden, seizing realization hit him and his stomach clenched.

He looked up, moaning "Oh, no" as a surprised yelp broke the silence.

Heyes dropped his head back into the hay, shaking it from side to side.  Inching over so that he could peer over the edge of the loft he opened his eyes and looked down at the angry man swinging in the net.  "Hi ya, Kid."

Curry's gun focused on Heyes, and for a brief moment the thought of shooting him passed through the blond man's mind.  _He looks so damn blasted pleased with himself_ , Curry thought as he continued to swing from side to side in slowly narrowing arcs.

A smile tugged at the corner of Heyes' lips.

"Heyes…" the Kid growled, his anger mounting as the smile spread.

Pushing himself up, Heyes swung his legs around so he could sit on the edge of the loft, the budding smile now in full bloom.  "So, whatcha doin', Kid?"

His partner slowly lowered the gun, beginning to see the humor in his predicament.  He grinned.  "Oh, just hangin' around, Heyes, just hangin' around."

The dark-haired outlaw burst into wails of laughter, finally falling back into the hay and clutching his sides.  Finally he sat up, wiped the tears from his eyes and climbed down out of the loft.

"For a minute there I thought you were going to shoot me," he told his partner as he cut him down.

"For a minute there, so did I," the Kid said, holstering his gun, his tone serious.  Heyes' smile faded and Curry watched from the corner of his eye.  He smiled.  "But just for a minute."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes was still grinning as he sat down across from the Kid.  The saloon was busy but they managed to get a table in a corner and carried their beers over and sat, wondering how it was possible they could both be hired to stop the other from delivering the deed.

"…So, anyway, somehow, this George Stratter knew who I was.  I think I remember seeing him up at the Hole a couple of Christmases ago when we dropped in.  It was either go along with this crazy scheme, or take a trip to the sheriff's office."

"What I can't figure…" Curry began, continuing after he had taken another sip of his beer, "…is why Hahn didn't tell me it was a deed in the first place."

"Maybe you don't have a very trustworthy face.  Have you ever considered that?" Heyes asked as he fingered the seal on the envelope.

"Thanks.  It must be the company I keep."

Hannibal grinned.  "The real question is:  a deed to what?  And, why are so many people after it?"  He handed the envelope back to Curry, who replaced it in his coat pocket.

"Well, it has to be pretty important, considerin' all that's been done to get and keep the thing.  What do we do now?"

Heyes finished what was left of his beer, then stated matter-of-factly, "First, we find out exactly what's behind that seal, then we decide what to do with it."

Kid tossed off the remainder of his drink and stood, following his cousin as he headed outside.  "And just how do we go about that without breaking the seal?"

"Kid, if I can break into a metal safe, how hard could it be to break into an envelope, sealed or not?"

They continued on down the boardwalk, heading toward the hotel.  "You know, Heyes, every time I underestimate you, you always come up with something brilliant.  What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yep."  Pausing across the street from Lanson's office, Heyes studied the street and surrounding area.

"Are you sure you know what we're doing?"

"I think so."  Heyes mentally noted the side entrance to the lawyer's office.

"But aren't you supposed to take this deed away from Lanson?"

"Uh huh," came the preoccupied reply.  Then, freezing the picture of the street in his mind, Heyes turned his full attention back to his cousin.  "But you're supposed to deliver it, right?"

"Yeah, I know I'm supposed to deliver it, but you're supposed to steal it."

"And we want to see what's in it, right?"

"Right."

"And it's sealed, right?"

"Right."

"And if we open it they'll know it, right?"

"Heyes," the Kid growled, "I thought you said it would be easy to open."

"And it will be, Kid, because we're going to let Mr. Lanson open the seal, and then we're going to open his safe."

"Heyes," Curry said, true awe ringing in his voice, "do you have all the answers?"

"I don't know, Kid.  You haven't come up with all the questions yet."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes knelt next to the small safe and gazed fondly at the tumbler.  Rubbing his thumb across his fingers a few times, he carefully placed his ear to the front of the safe and held his breath as he began rotating the dial back and forth.  He exhaled when he heard the first click and looked at the number – four.

Taking a second breath, he began again, releasing when the next fell into place – sixteen.  The third was more stubborn and Heyes sighed as he thought he heard a third click but was interrupted by Curry's whispered, "How's it goin'?"

"It _was_ goin' rather well," Heyes whispered hotly.  "Now be quiet a minute and I'll have this open."

Curry frowned and turned back to the window.  _Been out of this business too long.  This has me jumpy as a steer in a thunderstorm_.

"Got it."

_But those fingers still have the magic_ , Curry thought.  _Sometimes I wonder if we're not makin' a mistake goin' straight_.

Heyes rifled through the papers and files that sat in the safe until he found the envelope, opened.  He read the deed, then looked up at his partner, saying, "Well, it's a deed all right, and it's to a pretty big piece of land about halfway between here and Lone Pine."

"Great.  Do you think you could hurry this up a little?"

"Hey, look at this," Heyes said, handing the Kid a piece of paper.

Curry bent down, reading what was there in the dim light from the lantern sitting next to the safe.

"Frother.  That's the guy Hahn said might be sending someone after me.  I'm confused."

"I don't know, I think it's getting clearer," Heyes said, handing him a second piece of paper.

Curry read that one, then handed it back with a smile.  "So, what now?"

"Now we take this file and go get a good night's sleep," Heyes said as he replaced the rest of the papers and closed the safe.  "Tomorrow we'll go pay Mr. Lanson a visit, let him know he's changin' sides – again."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Lanson paled.

Heyes leaned over and opened the file he had just dropped on the lawyer's desk.  "We need to talk, Mr. Lanson."

"How did you get that file?" the lawyer asked, afraid and angry.

"That's not the question," Curry told the man.

"The question is," Heyes continued as he sat down, "whose side are you really on?  Hahn's?  Able's?  Frother's?  Or somone else's perhaps?"

"I don't understand—"

"Of course you do, Mr. Lanson.  It's all there in the file.  Hahn hired you to register that deed and ensure that his fiancée would be sent over here from Germany, and you sold out to Able.  Why?"

"I didn't have a choice.  Able has some very damming evidence on me.  I had to agree to go along or he'd ruin my career.  I'm a very successful businessman here and I don't want to jeopardize that by having my past dug up and made public."

"We can appreciate that," Heyes told him and Curry smiled.  "So Able's planning to double-cross Frother, is that it?"

"Yes, and if you knew Frother you'd understand why."

"We haven't had the pleasure," Curry told him.  "But I have met Mr. Hahn, and he hired me to deliver this deed, and I plan on doin' just that."

Lanson looked as though he'd collapse at any moment.  Heyes smiled reassuringly.  "Of course there might be a way to settle this so no one has to get hurt… in **any** way."  He let the vague threat work in before he continued.  "Would you be interested in striking a deal, Mr. Lanson?"

Lanson nodded.

"Good.  This is what we'll do.  You can make up a copy of this deed and register it, then you give Thaddeus here his five hundred dollars, and the paperwork, and he'll take it back to Hahn."

"But if I do that—"

"Let me finish," Heyes told the lawyer sternly.  "You're going to make two copies of a fake deed.  You can do that, can't you?"

Lanson nodded again.

"Fine.  I take one and deliver it – that'll get me off the hook.  Then, later, you'll go and deliver your copy of the fake.  Tell Able you had one with you for safekeeping.  That'll get you off the hook."

"But as soon as Able tries to register those false deeds he'll know they're fake, and he'll ruin me," Lanson whined.

"Just what does he have on you?" Curry asked, not expecting an answer, but curious enough to ask.

"I'd rather not say."

"You'll have plenty of time to get out of town before that happens," Heyes said.

"Out of town?  But I—"

"My partner's takin' those deeds, one way or another.  What do you think Able and Frother will do to you if—"

"All right, all right, I see your point," Lanson said, unhappy but resigned.  "What're you going to do about Able?"

"Nothing.  That's the beauty of it.  He'll try to register the deed to double-cross Frother, but he won't be able to.  He'll probably blame it on you, but you'll be gone, and Frother won't have anyone to be mad at except Able."  Heyes leaned back, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry stayed with Lanson until the deed was copied and registered.  Then, taking the five hundred dollars Lanson paid him, he headed back to Lone Pine, agreeing to meet Heyes in Green Meadow in two days.  Heyes took one copy of the false deed and headed back toward Green Meadow, following a respectable distance behind Lanson on the trail to make sure he didn't bolt and run out on their arrangement.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Well, this is excellent, excellent," Able said as he handed Heyes two thousand dollars.

"Just remember the rest of our deal," Heyes said as he watched Stratter eye him from the corner of the lawyer's office.

"Of course, we won't tell a soul about you, will we, George?" Able said, his voice as reassuring as the devil's.

"Course not," Stratter agreed with a smile.

Heyes rose, touched the brim of his hat and left the office, knowing that he was going to have difficulty leaving town.

Able watched Heyes as he crossed the street, heading for the hotel.  "You keep an eye on him until we're ready.  And for God's sake, make sure he doesn't leave town."

Stratter smiled and nodded.

Able had just turned to look at the deed again when the door opened and Lanson entered, looking nervous.  "What the hell are you doing here?" Albe demanded.

Lanson sat down across from the small man, wringing his hands.  "It was my safe, someone broke into it and took a copy of the deed."

Able smiled.  "That was arranged, for your own protection, of course."

"My protection?!" Lanson yelled, his voice cracking.  "I was scared to death.  If I hadn't kept one copy of that deed with me I might have done something foolish."

"You have another copy?"

"Here," Lanson said, handing it over, his hands trembling.

"Very good," Able said as he compared the two.  "You see, I was worried that your friendship with Mr. Hahn might've overridden your good sense, so I made sure you wouldn't do anything truly foolish.  I can see now I needn't have worried about your, uh, loyalties.  You're a true survivor, aren't you, Lanson?"

The lawyer turned a deep shade of red and growled through clenched teeth, "I hope you get yours one day, Able, and I hope I'm there to see it."

"Don't hold your breath.  Besides, your thief will be well punished for his crime."

"What do you mean?" Lanson asked as he stood to leave.

"Why, none other than Hannibal Heyes himself robbed your safe, but Stratter and I will be taking care of him.  You go back to Council Oak and remember that I know all about that poor girl you left husbandless, and what she did to herself.  Don't you forget that she has a father and a brother who would like nothing more than to get their hands on you."

"I know, I know," Lanson said quietly and left the office.

Able smiled, folded the deeds up and tucked them into the pocket of his coat.  Standing, he sighed.  _Now you're going to get yours, Mr. Frother.  I'll own that land, and if you want the water or the right-of-away to the railhead, you'll have to pay me for it, and pay dearly you will_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Hahn jumped when he heard the light knock at his door.  Rising, he answered it and found Curry there, covered in trail dust and looking tired.

"I'm glad you came straight here," he told Curry as he motioned him inside.  "I have some bad news, I think."

"What is it?" the Kid asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.  That bad feeling was back again, this time with a vengeance.

"I received a telegram from Mr. Lanson today.  I think he's trying to say that Able is going to kill a friend of yours.  Thaddeus, what's going on?"

He handed a telegram to Curry and he scanned the note:  _Thaddeus, Able to eliminate Joshua problem.  Stop.  Hurry to Green Meadow.  Stop.  Taking your advice and setting up new practice.  Stop.  Lanson._

Curry reached into his pocket and removed the deeds.  Handing them to Hahn he said, "Here're your papers.  I'm headin' out for Green Meadow; when I come back you can pay me the other five hundred."

"I don't understand," Hahn said, following him to the door.

"If my friend and I come back we'll explain it all to you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes stood in his hotel room and peered down at the street.  Stratter leaned back against the mercantile in front of the hotel, keeping a watch on the front door.  _I should've known they'd never let me ride outta here with ten thousand dollars on my head to be collected.  Sometimes you're a real genius, Heyes._

_I hope the Kid doesn't ride into the middle of this.  Wonder when they'll decide to make their move?_

_I better come up with something before Able checks those deeds.  Damn._

_Wait a minute, I've got it…_

Heyes grabbed his saddlebags and rifle and headed out the door.

The old man smiled when he saw Heyes coming down the stairs.

"I have a problem," Heyes told the old man.

"Whatcha mean ya got a poor room, I put you in the same one as the last time."

"A problem!" Heyes said louder, leaning in closer to the man.

"Ohhhh, what's the matter, boy?"

"There's a guy outside who thinks I stole his girl," Heyes explained, the twinkle in the old man's eye telling him he had picked the right story.

"Did ya?  I stole a few in my day.  Yessiree."

"Naw, not this time.  But he sure thinks I did, and he threatened to shoot me if he ever caught up with me."

"Sounds you got a real problem there, boy.  Whatcha want me to do?"

"Well, I was thinkin'… if you could go out and distract him for a couple 'a minutes, I could sneak around the back and get down to the livery without him seein' me," Heyes explained carefully and was answered by an excited wheeze of a chuckle.

"Why sure, boy.  I can keep 'im occupied for a spell.  You just wait 'til ya see the two of us jawin' real good, then ya just hightail it right outta here."

"Thanks," Heyes said, slapping the old man lightly on the back.

The old man paused just inside the door.  "Now, tell me the truth, boy, did ya steal her?"

"A man's got to have a few secrets, now don't he?" Heyes asked with a conspiratorial grin on his face.

The old man smiled, showing his gums and few remaining teeth.  "I figured as much.  Ya look like the sneaky type."  He punched Heyes in the arm.  "Keep up the good work, son."

Heyes watched as the old man headed across the street to Stratter, then stopped and began talking to him.  Stratter tried to get rid of him, but the more he tried the louder the old man became.  Slowly the clerk managed to maneuver in front of the gunman, blocking his view of the hotel.

Heyes took advantage of the good work and slipped out the door and disappeared down the alley.  Reaching the livery, he collected his horse, and promising the smithy to return with the first batch of the miracle lame cure, headed out of town.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Able watched Stratter chase the old man off, waving his gun at the old geezer who skittered across the street and into the hotel.  "What was that all about?"

"Oh, that ol' fool thought I was the guy that led his daughter into sin.  Hell, if she looks like him, they'd have to pay me to lead her to a—"

"Never mind," Able interrupted.  "The deeds are fakes."

"What?"

"Evidently, Mr. Heyes and Lanson were working together with Hahn.  He's probably got the deeds by now.  Lanson's already left town.  The cashier down at the train station said he left on the two-ten.  Heyes is still in the hotel, right?"

"Well, I didn't see him leave if that's what you mean," Stratter said as he rose and followed Able across the street.

They entered the hotel and got the room number from the old man, who watched them climb the stairs, a wicked grin on his face.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry pushed his gelding back into a lope.  _You're no more tired than I am, ol' son_.

He stopped in Green Meadow only to find that Heyes had already left, and that Able and a known gunman had left just after him, heading in the same direction.  With a tired sigh he set out to track the riders.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

It appeared to Curry that Heyes was trying to head back to Lone Pine, but the tracks of the two men following were too close for the Kid to feel comfortable.   _Come on, Heyes.  Use that brain of yours and lose these guys_.

The sounds of a distant gunshot caused Curry to jump, his horse shying under him.  He pulled the gelding up and located the direction the shot had come from.  Reining the dun to the north, he kicked him into a hard gallop, a hard knot forming in his stomach as he rode.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes felt the bullet enter just above his hip bone and pass through his side, then watched as it grazed his horse's neck.  The animal dipped her head and squealed, then went down, throwing Heyes roughly to the ground.  He rolled several times and when he stopped, gripped his side in pain.

Struggling to sit up, he looked frantically around for the mare.  She stood nearby, sides heaving.  Rising, he managed to scramble over to the horse as Able and Stratter reached him.  Heyes reached for his gun, but Stratter beat him easily.  "Let's just shoot him now and get it over with," the gunman said, pointing his revolver at Heyes' chest.

"Wait, you fool," Able snapped.  "We're taking him to Frother.  Someone besides me is going to take the fall for this mess."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry knelt on the trail and studied the blood on the ground.  He knew it was Heyes'.

Standing, he pushed his hat back and sighed heavily, then remounted, following the horse's tracks and occasional drops of blood, planning what he would do when he caught up to the two men.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The back of Frother's hand connected soundly with Heyes' jaw, sending him out of the chair and onto the floor.

The ex-outlaw pressed his hand to his side and climbed back into the chair, then smiled.

"Do you know what you've cost me?" Frother stormed.

"I can guess," Heyes said, trying not to let the pain he felt show in his voice.

"I wanted that right-of-way, and I _need_ that water.  Now I'm going to have to resort to less legal means to get that land."

"I wouldn't call blackmail and stealing exactly legal means."

Frother raised his hand to strike Heyes again, but something smoldering in the man's dark eyes stopped him; something hard and cold.  "So your partner's already delivered the deeds?"

"Yep, he left the same day I did.  He's already delivered them to Hahn and he's halfway to Mexico with the money we were going to get paid."

"Damn you.  Damn you!  Well, it won't be a total waste.  We have you and that's worth ten thousand dollars.  That'll pay for the kind of man I'll need to get that land back for me, and I thank you for that, Mr. Heyes."  Frother turned to Able,  "You see that he gets into town and handed over to the sheriff, alive."

"Alive?" Stratter questioned from his seat nearby, keeping a gun on Heyes.

"Alive, I said.  I want him to die slow, or rot in prison for the trouble he's caused.  A quick death would be far too easy for him."

"Appreciate that," Heyes said sarcastically under his breath.  _Come on, Kid.  Where are you?_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry watched the ranch house from his position stretched out along the top of a hill.  He waited, wondering how he could get in and rescue Heyes without both of them getting killed.  The problem solved itself when his partner was roughly ushered out of the house.  He watched as Heyes was pushed up onto his horse and noted the way he held his side and the dark stains on his shirt and jacket.

Stratter tied Heyes' hands to the saddle horn, then mounted and led him off, Able following.

Curry remounted and started after them, keeping far enough back so they wouldn't spot him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes grimaced and bit back a groan as Stratter kicked his horse into a trot, the rough jarring movement nearly causing the injured man to black out.  Heyes opened his eyes when he heard Stratter chuckle.  He looked up to see the gunman smiling at him.

"Don't you go and die on me, Heyes."

"I'll give it my best effort," he growled back.

Stratter laughed and clucked the horse into a lope.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry watched as Heyes bent low over the saddle horn.  Angry, he fought back the impulse to ride down on the pair, shooting.  Instead he carefully worked his way around them so he paralleled them as they rode.  Knowing they would pass a small hill near the edge of town, he urged the mare on to wait for them there.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes closed his eyes and swallowed hard to keep the bile in his stomach from rising.  The pounding of the horse's gait sent flashes of pain tearing through him, and he fought back the blackness that hovered on the edge of his consciousness.  Gritting his teeth, he groaned as the horses settled back into a hard trot.

Stratter's laughter drifted through Heyes' mind like the sound of a far away wind.  _Kid, where are you?  I need your help_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The pain stopped.  Heyes' eyes slowly opened as he felt hands untying him and gently dragging him off the horse.

"Kid?" he whispered.

"It's all right, Heyes.  I've got you.  You're goin' to be fine, the doc's on his way."

"Where?" was all Heyes could say as he was laid onto a soft bed.  It felt wonderful and the world quickly began to fade.

"Come on, Heyes, stay with me."

Heyes opened his eyes again and saw the Kid holding out a cup for him.  Realizing how thirsty he was, Heyes took a few swallows.

"We're at Hahn's," the Kid explained.  "He sent a hand to get the doc.  He'll be back shortly.  Can you hang on until then?"

Heyes nodded.  "How'd you get me away from—?"

"Lanson sent a telegram to Hahn.  Damn lucky he did, too.  I headed back to Green Meadow and found your trail.  I just waited 'til I could get the drop on them.  I sent them back to Frother in their long johns, tied up like Christmas presents."

Heyes tried to laugh, but the effort made him twist in pain.

"Easy," the Kid said as Hahn joined them in the room.

He handed Curry a bowl of water.  "How is he doing?"

Curry sat the water down on the nightstand next to the bed, then took one of the towels Hahn handed him.  Between the two of them, they were able to get Heyes stripped down to see the extent of the wound.

"It passed straight through, that is lucky," the older man said.

"Sounds like Kurt," Heyes mumbled.

"I thought so, too," Curry said as he took a towel and dipped it into the tepid water.  He carefully wiped his partner's face.

Heyes ground himself into the bed as a wave of pain ran through him.

"Let me take over, son."

Curry turned, reaching instinctively for his gun.

"Whoa now, boy.  You won't be needin' that, I'm just a doctor."

The Kid studied the older, pudgy man for a moment, then stepped away from Heyes.  "Sorry, Doc," he said, "I'm just a little jumpy after all of this.  Not enough sleep, I guess."

"Well, you go get something to eat and get some sleep – you look like you could use it," he said, his blue eyes kind and compassionate.  I'll take care of your friend here.  You won't be able to see him until mornin' anyway."

"I'll be fine, Thaddeus," Heyes whispered.  "Do what he says."

Curry allowed Hahn to guide him out of the room with a hand on his shoulder.  "He's a good doctor," the immigrant reassured.  "Your friend is in his and God's hands now.  Come into the kitchen and I will warm some coffee and see what I can fix."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

While they ate Curry explained what had happened with Lanson and Able as best he could.  An occasional moan from Heyes' room interrupted his tale, but he forced himself to stay where he was, knowing that he couldn't help Heyes by pacing outside the room.

Hahn listened with interest.  "It would not be wise to report this to the sheriff?"

"No."

"Would you tell me why?"

"I suppose I owe you that much for helping us," Curry said, hoping he was doing the right thing.  "He's my partner, and we're wanted."

"I thought you might be," Hahn said, watching the blond man's response carefully.  "I did not think a man could be as good with a gun as you and not be a lawman, or wanted."

"We're not wanted for murder," was the somewhat defensive reply.  "They just want us for robbin'."

"I see," Hahn said.  "Is that why it was so easy for you to get the deed from Lanson's safe?"

"Yeah, Joshua's kind 'a an expert when it comes to that, but we've gone straight."  The Kid looked at the man and grinned.  "More or less."

"Well, I am glad you are such honest outlaws.  Now I can send for my intended, in Germany."

"I hope you two are real happy.  Joshua and I will be movin' on just as soon as he can travel."

"That won't be for a little while," came the doctor's voice from behind them.  Curry swung around to face the man.

"How is he, Doc?"

"The bullet went clean through without hitting anything important.  Pretty clean, too, considering.  The infection doesn't look like it's going to be too serious.  Once the fever breaks he should be fine, but he's going to need some time to heal up, and to make sure a secondary infection doesn't set in."

"When do you think he can travel?"

"He should be in bed for at least a couple of weeks, and I'd like to see him resting at least a month."

Curry sighed.  A month was a long time.

"He can stay here," Hahn told the doctor.  "And, I'd appreciate it if you did not mention this to anyone."

"I suppose I could be persuaded to keep my mouth shut if you promise me some of that German sausage of yours."

"I will have it delivered as soon as it is through curing.  And," Hahn smiled, "you'll be invited to a wedding in a few months."

"Wonderful!  I take it these men helped you, huh, negotiate that land deal with Frother?"

"Yes, that is why I do not want anyone to know they are here."

The doctor nodded his understanding and agreement.  "I'm going to sit up with him tonight, see him through this fever."  The doctor poured himself a cup of coffee.  "Tomorrow you can see him."

"Finish and get some sleep, Thaddeus," Hahn told him.

"Thanks."

"No, thank you, and Joshua."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of his stomach rumbling.  Wandering into the kitchen, he found Hahn laboring over the stove.  "Smells good," he said, as he poured himself some coffee.  "Is the doc still with Joshua?"

"Yes.  He came out earlier.  He is changing the bandages, then he is going home to get some sleep."

Hahn had just finished when the doctor joined them, a tired smile on his lips.  "He's awake.  You can go in and see him if you'd like, but don't tire him out, it was a long night."

Curry smiled, took his coffee and disappeared down the hall.  Opening the bedroom door, he peeked into the room and saw Heyes smile back at him.  Entering, he walked over and sat down in the chair the doctor had moved to the side of the bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, noticing how pale and weak Heyes looked.

"Better," Heyes assured him.  "I'm gonna be fine, but the doc says I've just gotta stay put for a while."

"I know.  Hahn says we can stay here."

"You trust him?"

The Kid paused, considering the question before he answered.  "Yeah, I do.  I think we'll be safe here."

"Me, too.  He came in earlier and we had a little talk.  He's got ideas about who we are, but I think he'll keep his word."

Curry reached out and squeezed Heyes' shoulder.  "You had me pretty scared there for awhile."

"Sorry, Kid," he said, reaching up to rest his hand on the blond man's arm.  "I'll tell ya, I sure was glad to see you when you pulled me off that horse.  I only wish I'd seen Able and Stratter all fixed up."  He smiled and Curry broke into a grin.

"You would've loved it, Heyes.  It was just the sort of thing you would've thought up.  I guess you're wearin' off on me."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"You know, Frother's going to be comin' after you, probably with hired guns," Heyes told Hahn as they all sat that the kitchen table.

"I know, but I have a very good friend who is sending a federal marshal out here to look into Mr. Frother's dealings.  I do not think he is going to have time to worry about me."

"You must have some pretty powerful friends," Curry said through his German sausage and eggs.

"Yes.  My fiancée is the governor's niece," Hahn said, and watched as both Curry and Heyes stopped eating.  "Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Heyes said, taking another sip of coffee.  A month of bed rest had put him back on his feet and he and the Kid had decided it was time to leave, giving their word to return for the wedding in three months.

"In fact," Hahn said quietly, "I was thinking that you might like to meet him when you come for the wedding.

"The governor is goin' to be here?" Heyes asked through his biscuit, his voice higher than normal.

"Of course," Hahn said, smiling at the pair.  "He is looking forward to meeting the men responsible for solving my problems so I could marry Helen.  She is like a daughter to him."

"I see," Heyes said, then added, "Roth, if you know the Governor, why didn't you get him to help with Frother earlier?"

Hahn looked down at his plate, a slight pink flush to his cheeks.  "I wanted to do this on my own.  I guess I am a proud man.  I did not want to be indebted to a man who will be like a father-in-law to me."

"That makes perfect sense to me," Curry said and Heyes nodded.

"I also understand that he is very good friends with the governor of Wyoming.  Perhaps he could put in a good word for two reformed outlaws who are willing to risk their lives to help a stranger."

"Maybe he could," Heyes said, smiling.  "Roth, do you know who we are?"

"I do."

"How?"

"You called each other 'Heyes' and 'Kid' when you came here after you had been shot.  I have heard about Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.  Plenty."

The partners smiled.  "Well, I'm not admitting we are Heyes and Curry, you understand," the dark-haired man said, "but if we were, we'd be very pleased to meet the Governor of Colorado, as your friends.  It never hurts to have connections."

"Good, good," Hahn told them, rising to pour them some more coffee.  "I thought you might, my friends."

 

The End


End file.
